The Man Finally Died -By Zayd Ibn Isah

Mixed reactions have continued to trail the death of former President Muhammadu Buhari. For some, his passing marks the end of an era defined by promises unfulfilled, silence where there should have been words, and inaction where decisive steps were needed. For others, it is an opportunity to reflect on the complexities of leadership in a nation as restless and demanding as Nigeria.

While many remember him as the no-nonsense general who rode into power on the wings of hope and the mantra of change, others recall with bitterness the years they believe were lost to indecision and a seeming detachment from the people’s daily struggles. To his loyalists, he was an incorruptible leader who meant well but was betrayed by a system too broken to fix. To his critics, he was an absentee figurehead – a man whose second coming promised much but delivered little.

However, the kernel of this article is not to state who is wrong and who is right among his loyalists, critics, or even his traducers, as everyone is entitled to their opinions. There is no need to remind his Muslim critics of the Hadith of the Prophet Muhammad (SAW) that you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, or his Christian critics about Bible verses that discourage speaking ill of anyone, whether dead or alive. They know this but choose to vent their spleens in the exercise of their fundamental human rights.

Nigeria is a nation of two moralities. We are a people with crush orientations (apologies to Gimba Kakanda). What a particular section of society sees as right is what others see as wrong, and vice versa. Even religious leaders are sometimes caught up in the fire when emotions run high. This is the case with those who feel he committed unpardonable sins or believe his existence was an anathema to the country and have taken to the streets to celebrate his death. The irony is that among those celebrating are the same people who believed he had died long ago. Their mumu no too much?

Buhari, as a democratically elected President, suffered and survived numerous conspiracy theories — one of the most famous being the “Jubril of Sudan” saga. He was in and out of hospitals during his first term, and during one of his medical check-ups abroad, he spent over ninety days away. It was during this period that conspiracy theorists went to the market and sold Nigerians the lie that “Buhari is dead and has been replaced by a certain Jubril from Sudan.”

Many Nigerians believed this fictitious story. I lost count of how many times my friends would call me and ask me to tell them the truth about whether the man in Aso Rock was the real Buhari. And I always said yes – that it is not possible for our President to be cloned. I backed up my explanation with the example of the late President Umaru Musa Yar’adua, who died in office and was buried. If he was not replaced by an impostor, why should Buhari’s case be different? While some of them believed me, others did not. I wasn’t surprised, anyway. The people who believed India scored Nigeria 99 goals in a football match can believe anything. Even when his spokesman, Garba Shehu, finally announced his death, those who doubted him before – when he said the President was alive and responding well to treatment, are still saying that the real Buhari died long ago and that the man whose death was just announced was actually Jubril. It is difficult to dispel lies in this country because we are too gullible.

This capacity to believe the most outlandish stories says a lot about us as a people, not just about our appetite for conspiracy theories, but also about the deep wells of distrust that have taken root over time. In a country where leaders sometimes appear distant and governance feels abstract to the average citizen, rumours find fertile ground. When trust is low and understanding is weak, gossip and myths, however far-fetched, become an outlet for both frustration and imagination.

Yet, perhaps that is not entirely the fault of government alone. There is blame to share. Our institutions must do more to communicate, to build trust, and to remain accessible. At the same time, we, the people, must learn to ask better questions, demand evidence, and resist the temptation to hold onto convenient lies. As citizens, we cannot expect accountability from our leaders if we ourselves do not seek the truth and insist on it.

So, the man finally died, and with him, perhaps, some of the myths we held so tightly. In his passing, we are reminded that no leader, no matter how powerful, is immune to the judgment of time and history. Buhari’s life and death offer us a mirror to see not only what went wrong but also what we, as citizens, must do better. For a nation to move forward, its people must be willing to question, to remember, and to hold themselves accountable too. In the end, it is not just about the man who finally died, but about a country that must keep living, learning, and striving for the ideals we all desire.

Zayd Ibn Isah can be reached at lawcadet1@gmail.com